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THE LIFE AND TIMES
OF
GEORGE VILLIERS
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
FROM ORIGINAL AND AUTHENTIC SOURCES.
BY MRS. THOMSON,
AUTHOR OF
“MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF HENRY THE EIGHTH,”
“LIFE OF SIR WALTER RALEGH,”
“MEMOIRS OF SARAH, DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH,”
&c., &c.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1860.
_The right of Translation is reserved._
LONDON:
PRINTED BY R. BORN, GLOUCESTER STREET,
REGENT’S PARK.
CONTENTS OF VOL II.
CHAPTER I.
Anxiety felt in England about the Spanish Treaty--Charles I.
the first Male Heir for whom a Treaty of Marriage had been
set on foot since Henry VIII.--Qualities of the
Infanta--Called the Rare Infanta--Charles’s Personal
Excellence and Elegance--Alliance received with Interest
as Concerning the Palatinate--Question of the
Dispensation--The Obstacles--Difficulty in fitting out a
Fleet to bring the Prince back--James’s
Apprehensions--Letter from Lord Kensington--Preparations
at Southampton for the Reception of the Prince and
Infanta--Attempts made in Spain to Convert Charles--His
Firmness, and that of the Duke--Buckingham’s Impatience to
return to England--Letters of Endymion Porter from
Spain--The Romantic Adventure of Prince Charles in a
Garden--His Short Interview with the Infanta accompanied
by Endymion Porter--Hopes of the Treaty being
fulfilled--The Betrothal fixed for St. James’s Day, but
not accomplished--The Fool Archy’s Speech--Buckingham’s
Pecuniary Difficulties--His
Boldness--Unpopularity--Insanity of his Brother, Lord
Purbeck--Amiable Conduct of the Duchess of
Buckingham--Grand Entertainment given at Madrid--The Fuego
de Cannas--Quarrels between Buckingham and
Olivares--Bristol’s Despatches Unfavourable to the
Prince--Preparations for the Prince’s Departure--The
Infanta’s Marriage Deferred--Original Letter from
Bristol--Leave-Taking at the Escurial--The Prince reaches
Segovia--Valladolid--St. Andero--Perils in Returning from
the Fleet to the Shore--Voyage Home--Touches at the Scilly
Isles--Arrives at Portsmouth--At York House--At
Royston--Public Rejoicings--Charles termed "England’s Joy" 1
CHAPTER II.
Indisposition of the Duchess of Buckingham--The King’s
Regard for her and her Child--Archbishop Laud’s Encomium
on her Character--Queen Anne’s Chain presented to the
Duchess of Lennox--Effrontery of the Countess of
Buckingham--The Duke’s Deportment on his Return from
Spain--More dignities conferred upon him--King James and
the Clergy--The Royal Instructions for the Performance of
Divine Service in Spain--Public Prejudice against the
Spanish Match--The Wallingford House Cabal pronounce in
Favour of a French Alliance--Popular Indignation against
the Spanish Ambassador--Competition for Precedence between
the Ambassadors of France and Spain--Character of the Lord
Keeper Williams--His Opposition to the Proceedings of
Buckingham--The Countess of Buckingham embraces the
Catholic Faith--Controversy between the Dean of Carlisle
and the Jesuit Fisher--Breach between Buckingham and
Williams--The King manifests his Displeasure with
Buckingham--The Spanish Court and the English
Alliance--Conduct of the Infanta after the Departure of
Charles--Preparations for the Marriage--A Commission
appointed to inquire into the Conditions of the Spanish
Treaty--The Lord Keeper in Favour with the
King--Parliament counsels James to break the Treaty with
Spain--Popular Rejoicings, and Disappointment of the
Catholic Party--The Illness of Buckingham--Painful
Illustration of the Bigoted Spirit of the Age--Inojosa
accuses Buckingham of Treachery against the King--The
Prophecy of Gamaliel Gruys--General Desire for War with
Spain--Proposed Alliance of Prince Charles with Henrietta
Maria of France--Restoration of Buckingham to the King’s
Favour 55
CHAPTER III.
Decline of the King’s Health--Case of Lord
Middlesex--Proceedings in both Houses--Sir Edward Coke’s
Exaggeration--Buckingham’s Participation in the
Affair--Middlesex steals away to Theobald’s, and is
followed by Charles--Found Guilty--Confined--Buckingham’s
Dangerous Illness--Arthur Brett--Death of the
King--Ascribed to Buckingham 133
CHAPTER IV.
1624-1625.
The Remarks of Sir Henry Wotton upon Buckingham’s
Uninterrupted Prosperity during the Reign of James--His
Most Perilous Time yet to Come--The Character of Charles
Difficult to Manage--His Affections Divided--Request of
the Privy Council Regarding the Late King’s Funeral and
the Young King’s Marriage--Good Taste displayed by Charles
in his Conduct at the Funeral--The Influence of Buckingham
still Paramount--Roger Coke’s Remark upon King James’s
Regret on observing that his Son was overruled by the
Duke--The Three Great Kingdoms of Europe at this Period
ruled by Favourites--The Marriage of Charles and Henrietta
Maria--Motive attributed to Buckingham--Preliminary
Steps--Letter from Lord Kensington to the Duke of
Buckingham detailing his Interview with the
Queen-Mother--Description of the Young Princess--The Duke
prepares for his Journey into France to fetch home the
Bride--The Expense of his Mission objected to by the
Nation--The Two Ambassadors Described--Rich--Lord
Kensington, First Earl of Holland--His Beauty of Person,
Address, and Early Favour at the Court of James--His
resting solely upon Buckingham--His Marriage with the
Daughter of Sir Walter Coke, the Owner of the Manor of
Kensington--The Earl of Holland regarded by some as a
Rival to Buckingham--James Relied more on the Earl of
Carlisle--Character of the Two Noblemen by Bishop
Hacket--Successful Interviews on the Part of Lord Holland
with Mary de Medici--Her Disposition to favour Charles as
a Suitor to her Daughter--Anecdote of Henrietta Maria and
of Charles’s Portrait--Encomiums on Henrietta--The Duchess
de Chevreuse--Her Influence over Anne of Austria--Her
Splendour--Resentment of the Count de Soissons on Account
of the Marriage Treaty with England--The Willingness
evinced by Henrietta Maria to the Marriage--Lord
Kensington’s Flattery of the Queen-Mother--Their
Conversations on the Subject of the Spanish Match--The
Marriage Finally Concluded--Charles’s Conduct to the
Recusants regarded as a Proof of his Aversion to Catholic
Hopes 161
CHAPTER V.
Buckingham’s Embassy to Paris--He despatches Balthazar
Gerbier to select and purchase Pictures--Letter of the
Painter to him--The Magnificence of the French
Court--Buckingham’s Appearance at the Parisian Court--His
Aspiring to the Favour of Anne of Austria--The Manner in
which his Homage was received by Anne, as stated by Madame
de Motteville--The Freedom of Manners, termed by Anne
"L’Honnête Galanterie," permitted by the Queen--The
Dazzling Appearance of Buckingham--Anecdote of the
Jealousy of the French--Point of Etiquette between
Buckingham and the Cardinal Richelieu--Buckingham attends
Henrietta Maria to the Coast--Anne of Austria accompanies
her Sister-in-law to Amiens--Incident there in which
Buckingham betrayed his Mad Passion--He receives a Rebuff
from the Queen--His Love-Suit not checked by her
Reproof--He sheds Tears on parting from Anne--Journeys on
to Boulogne and returns to Amiens--His Interview there
with Anne--He then pursues his Journey to
England--Letters, and Affecting Conduct of his Wife--The
Meeting of Charles and Henrietta Maria--Buckingham retains
his Influence over Charles I. 203
CHAPTER VI.
Unjust Appreciation of Buckingham’s Character--His Energy in
respect to the Navy--Sir Walter Ralegh’s Works on Maritime
Affairs--Prince Henry’s Predilection for them--His
Miniature Ship--His Death--Lord Nottingham’s Neglect and
Venality--His Powers--60,000_l._ yearly allotted for the
Navy--Buckingham’s Efforts--Example set by
Richelieu--Ignorance of Ship-Building in those
Days--Buckingham draws up a Plan of Defence--Fear of the
Spanish Armada--The Duke proposes to form a Company for
the West as well as the East Indies--Plan of
Taxation--Also of Defence on Shore 243
CHAPTER VII.
Unfortunate Result of the Principles early instilled into
Charles I. by his Father--The Affair of the
Palatinate--Its Connection with the Spanish Marriage--Mad
Desire of Charles and Buckingham for a War with
Spain--Letter from the Earl of Bristol--The First
Unfortunate Expedition to Cadiz--Resentment of the
People--Charles assembles a Parliament--The Supplies
Refused--Impeachment of Bristol--Impeachment of
Buckingham--His Thirteen Answers--Rash Conduct of the
King--His Expression of Contempt for the House of
Commons--Sir John Elliot and Sir Dudley Digges sent to the
Tower--The Intolerant Spirit of the Day--Influence of
Laud--Sermon of the Vicar of Brackley--"Tuning the
Pulpits" 273
CHAPTER I.
ANXIETY FELT IN ENGLAND ABOUT THE SPANISH TREATY--CHARLES I. THE FIRST
MALE HEIR FOR WHOM A TREATY OF MARRIAGE HAD BEEN SET ON FOOT SINCE
HENRY VIII.--QUALITIES OF THE INFANTA--CALLED THE RARE
INFANTA--CHARLES’S PERSONAL EXCELLENCE AND ELEGANCE--ALLIANCE
RECEIVED WITH INTEREST AS CONCERNING THE PALATINATE--QUESTION OF THE
DISPENSATION--THE OBSTACLES--DIFFICULTY IN FITTING OUT A FLEET TO
BRING THE PRINCE BACK--JAMES’S APPREHENSIONS--LETTER FROM LORD
KENSINGTON--PREPARATIONS AT SOUTHAMPTON FOR THE RECEPTION OF THE
PRINCE AND INFANTA--ATTEMPTS MADE IN SPAIN TO CONVERT CHARLES--HIS
FIRMNESS, AND THAT OF THE DUKE--BUCKINGHAM’S IMPATIENCE TO RETURN TO
ENGLAND--LETTERS OF ENDYMION PORTER FROM SPAIN--THE ROMANTIC
ADVENTURE OF PRINCE CHARLES IN A GARDEN--HIS SHORT INTERVIEW WITH
THE INFANTA, ACCOMPANIED BY ENDYMION PORTER--HOPES OF THE TREATY
BEING FULFILLED--THE BETROTHAL FIXED FOR ST. JAMES’S DAY, BUT NOT
ACCOMPLISHED--THE FOOL ARCHY’S SPEECH--BUCKINGHAM’S PECUNIARY
DIFFICULTIES--HIS BOLDNESS--UNPOPULARITY--INSANITY OF HIS BROTHER,
LORD PURBECK--AMIABLE CONDUCT OF THE DUCHESS OF BUCKINGHAM--GRAND
ENTERTAINMENT GIVEN AT MADRID--THE FUEGO DE CANNAS--QUARRELS BETWEEN
BUCKINGHAM AND OLIVARES--BRISTOL’S DESPATCHES UNFAVOURABLE TO THE
PRINCE--PREPARATIONS FOR THE PRINCE’S DEPARTURE--THE INFANTA’S
MARRIAGE DEFERRED--ORIGINAL LETTER FROM BRISTOL--LEAVE-TAKING AT THE
ESCURIAL--THE PRINCE REACHES SEGOVIA--VALLADOLID--ST. ANDERO--PERILS
IN RETURNING FROM THE FLEET TO THE SHORE--VOYAGE HOME--TOUCHES AT
THE SCILLY ISLES--ARRIVES AT PORTSMOUTH--AT YORK HOUSE--AT
ROYSTON--PUBLIC REJOICINGS--CHARLES TERMED "ENGLAND’S JOY."
LIFE AND TIMES OF
GEORGE VILLIERS.
----------
=CHAPTER I.=
The English nation continued, during the spring and summer of the year
1623, in anxious expectation of decisive news from Spain. Nothing could
exceed the universal interest which this famous treaty of marriage
between Charles and the Infanta inspired; nor had any subject so
completely engrossed the public mind since the time of Henry the Eighth,
when the ill-omened marriage of that prince with a daughter of Spain was
first concerted. For England, be it observed, had known no male
unmarried heir-apparent since that period, except the youthful and
estimable Edward the Sixth, whose career was closed before he could be
made the subject of political alliances.
There were many who looked with sentiments which state matters did not
influence upon the proposed marriage of two individuals whose rank was
their least merit. According to report, the Infanta was possessed of
qualities not inferior in excellence to those of Katherine of Arragon,
whilst in other attributes she was infinitely more attractive than that
ill-starred princess. Her beauty, her accomplishments, her piety, had
acquired for her the appellation of the “Rare Infanta;” and hence she
was esteemed to be a fitting consort for one whose elegance of mind,
whose courtesy, and princely grace were transcended by the purity of his
moral conduct, the firmness of his religious opinions, and the
affectionate disposition of his heart.
In his position as a private individual, Charles was pre-eminently
amiable; and, at that period, the public could only judge of him as they
would of any other irresponsible youth of great expectations. The vital
faults of his heart, and the real weakness of his character, soft and
infirm, yet incrusted with obstinacy and prejudice, were not only not
apparent, but unsuspected.
The majority of the nation, however, viewed the Spanish alliance with
interest, chiefly as affecting the long agitated question of the
Palatinate, which James pretended, and, perhaps, believed, it was
destined to settle to the satisfaction of the people.
It was therefore with something like consternation at first, although
the event was afterwards hailed with joy, that the rupture of the treaty
was seen afar off, by signs which appeared at first gradually, and
afterwards plainly, upon the political horizon.
The question of the dispensation was the first known impediment; and the
news from Spain were inauspicious. To the surprise of everyone, almost
the next letter from the Prince and Duke announced their intention to
return home, even should the expected dispensation not arrive before
they could sail; “wherefore,” they wrote, “it was fitting that no time
nor charge should be spared” in sending out the fleet which was to
convey them to England; and begged that it might “be well chosen,”
because they thought that the King, Queen, and all the Court of Spain
would see it.
This letter was dated on the twenty-third of March, the anniversary of
King James’s coronation.
“My sweete boyes,” the King wrote, on the following day, “God bless you
both, and reward you for the comfortable news I resaived from you
yesterday[1] (quhiche was my coronation daye), in place of a tilting. My
shippe is readdie to make saile, and onlie stayes for a faire winde; God
send it her! But I have, for the honour of Englande, curtailed the
traine that goes by sea of a number of raskalls.”[2]
Footnote 1:
Referring to a former letter, dated the 10th of March.
Footnote 2:
Nichols, vol. iv., p. 839.
There was, meantime, much difficulty, from the inefficient state of the
navy, in furnishing even a small fleet to fetch home the heir-apparent.
Not only ships, but mariners, were wanting; the sailors had gone away,
and hidden themselves. In vain were two proclamations issued to call
them home; for proclamations and commissions had become so frequent that
no one attended to their purport. At length, on the twenty-eighth of
June, a small fleet of ten or twelve ships was equipped, and appeared in
the Downs, ready to depart; but the expense of supporting them, which
exceeded three hundred pounds a day, was loudly complained of by those
at the head of affairs.
The King, meantime, was harassed with debts, and disturbed by
apprehensions. He begged “his babie” to be as sparing as possible, since
his agents had great difficulty in raising the five thousand pounds
required for his use. The Prince’s “tilting stuff” was to come to three
thousand pounds more, and those employed to get that sum knew not how to
procure it. “God knows,” wrote the King, “how my coffers are alreadie
drained.” He could think of no remedy, he added, except to obtain in
advance the payment of the hundred and fifty thousand pounds promised as
the Infanta’s dower, which he thought “his sweete gossepe, that is now
turned Spaniarde, with his golden keye,”[3] would be able to get, and
then he should have a fine ship speedily to bring him home to his “deare
dade.”
The tender father was too full of fears lest his “babie” should be hurt
in tilting. He also begged of his “sweete boyes to keep themselfs in use
of dawincing privatlie, though they showlde quhaffsell and sing one to
another, like Gakke (Jack) and Tom, for faulte of bettir musike.”
Finally, James desired them, even should the dispensation not arrive, to
press the Prince’s suit bravely, and to get him married without it,
since numbers of "Catholic Romans and Protestants married in the worlde
without the Pope’s dispensation," as he had been informed by the
Austrian ambassador.
Footnote 3:
Referring to the key presented to the Duke by the King of Spain.
Meantime, the university of Oxford was vying with the metropolis in
demonstrations of joy for the Prince’s safe arrival in Spain. In the
beautiful church of St. Mary’s, now chiefly appropriated to deep
theological discourses, a sermon was preached in honour of that event,
and an oration to the same effect delivered in the schools.[4] Yet, even
now, the feeling of the country began to appear. It was rumoured, and
only too truly, that things were not going well in Spain; whilst the
enormous sums of money taken out of the treasury and regalia in jewels
excited general indignation. As everything familiar, as well as
important, became, in those times, the theme of preachers, even from
pulpits, the draining of the kingdom of money was blamed. Dr. Everard,
the rector of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, was committed for “saying too
much;” and another preacher was, in the midst of his unpleasant
strictures on the same subject, “sung down with a psalm before he had
half done his sermon.”
Footnote 4:
State Papers, vol. cxi., No. 13.
On the twenty-sixth of May, the Earl of Rutland, Buckingham’s
father-in-law, received James’s private instructions to have the “ships
sweet, and well provided with victuals, to chuse good captains, and to
defer to the authority of Buckingham as Lord Admiral, should he come on
board; to avoid quarrels, which the King thought very dangerous when
persons were crowded together on shipboard;--in going, to make for the
Groyne, in returning to land at in returning to land at Southampton,”[5]
the high-ways of which were even then being repaired for the reception
and convenience of the expected bride. Yet still the fleet was
unaccountably detained in port, and nothing was really done.
The Court, at this time, was gratified by a letter from Lady Kensington,
commending the resistance of the Prince and Duke to proposals made by
the Spanish Court, derogatory to them; and stating, after extravagant
encomiums on the newly-made Duke, that Buckingham “shed tears” on
account of his absence from the King.[6] Complaints, however, were made
at home, not only of the export of so many valuables to Spain, but of
the expense of supporting the table of the Spanish ambassador, who was
treated here as a guest, during Charles’s sojourn in Spain. Eighty
pounds a day was the charge to which the ambassador’s table at first
amounted. His repasts were eventually cut down to thirty dishes--all
that King James permitted himself to display on his own table--and the
cost was thus reduced to twenty pounds daily.[7]
Footnote 5:
State Papers, vol. cxlvi., No. 23.
Footnote 6:
Ibid, No. 39.
Footnote 7:
Ibid, No. 49.
Reports, indeed, came to console the anxious minds at home, stating that
the Prince and Duke were “royally treated,” but it was soon surmised
that Charles was becoming weary of his detention. June had arrived; the
Duke of Richmond, and six other noblemen, as commissioners, had already
gone to Southampton to prepare a reception, with pageants, for the
Prince; yet still Lord Rochford, who was expected to arrive with news of
the wedding-day being fixed, did not make his appearance.
The Duke of Richmond was accompanied to Southampton by Inigo Jones and
old Alleyn, the player, who were to employ their talents for the
occasion; but who could, as the great news-teller writer of that period,
Chamberlain, observes, “have done just as well without so many Privy
Counsellors;” “but we must,” he adds, “shew our obsequiousness in all
that concerns her” (the Infanta). At Gravesend, Lord Kelly, in the
King’s barge, went to meet the new Spanish ambassador, the Marquis
Inojosa, to whom cloths of estate, an honour never permitted to
ambassadors in Queen Elizabeth’s time, were conceded, and when the
haughty grandee landed at Dover, and was saluted with shot from the
castle, he vouchsafed a nod from his coach, but, Spaniard-like, gave not
one penny of money.[8]
Footnote 8:
State Papers, vol. cxlvii., No. 40.
In spite of all the journeyings to and from Spain, nothing was done,
whilst the Prince, whose firmness met with the highest commendations,
was written to by the Pope, and “nibbed at with orations by the English
seminaries in Spain, in order to effect his conversion.” The expenses at
home and abroad could now only be supported by extraordinary devices,
such as knighting a thousand gentlemen at a hundred pounds a-piece; ten
or twelve serjeants-at-law at five hundred pounds a-piece; but the fees
arising from the elevation of these luminaries were to be given to the
Lord Keeper or to Sir Francis Crane, to further his tapestry works at
Mortlake, or to pay off some scores owed him by Buckingham.[9]
Footnote 9:
State Papers, vol. cxlvii., No. 80.
Whilst all these minor difficulties were harassing the King at home,
Charles was beset with a far greater difficulty. When the Puritans were
blaming him for answering in a polite and conciliatory tone the Pope’s
letters, without the permission of his royal father, he was displaying
the firmness which could only be the result of a careful and learned
education; for faith in those times was, as in ours, feeble without
sound knowledge; and it was requisite for him to repel zealous efforts
to convert him at all convenient times. Between the dazzling scenes of
splendid shows and diversions, made at such times and intervals of
repose, Olivares was attacking the Prince with the argument best suited
to the character of the romantic youth, telling him how sure a way to
the Infanta’s heart his conversion would be; and by hinting that
difference of creed could not but be a great obstacle to their union.
And when answered that such an apostasy would raise a rebellion in
Protestant England, the embarrassed but steadfast Prince was assured
that if such were the case, he should have an army from Spain to quell
such an insurrection. Even Lord Bristol, who was a great friend and
favourite of Charles’s, “strove, with a gentle hand, to allure him that
way,” by the specious argument that none but Roman Catholic monarchs had
ever been great as sovereigns; whilst the Pope, encouraged by all this
subtle working of a hidden machinery, wrote a letter to the Bishop of
Conchen, Inquisitor-General of Spain, desiring him not to let such an
opportunity of conversion slip out of his hands.[10]
Footnote 10:
Kennet’s History of England, vol. ii., p. 765.
Buckingham did not, it appears, escape the zeal of the Jesuits, but
acquitted himself, in reply to the energetic attacks upon his faith,
with a prompt decision; and, as far as he was concerned, the attempt
seems to have ceased, although he was afterwards incessantly reproached
with a leaning to Romanism.
Like others, Buckingham became, at length, weary of the subject of the
Palatinate, and not only still more weary of his long residence in
Spain, but anxious to leave the political management of the affairs to
those who best understood those intricate matters.[11] To his
precipitate conduct, and his impatience of delay, it was said the whole
failure might be ascribed; and that, had it not been for his impetuous
temper, Charles and the Infanta would have been married before the
Christmas of 1623.
Footnote 11:
Letter from Madrid, August, 1623.
Whilst all went smooth, or appeared to do so, with the treaty, the
diplomatists were at variance among themselves.
“When we were here in the heighth of discontents,” wrote Simon
Digby,[12] “nothing so much spoken of as the Prince, his sudden
departure, _reinfectâ_, all our wranglings and disputes were, when no
man suspected and expected any such matter,[13] shut up like a comedy,
and the match declared and published for concluded.”
Footnote 12:
A cousin of the Earl of Bristol’s.
Footnote 13:
Letter from Simon Digby. State Papers for 1623, July 25.
At home, the Marquis Inojosa was making representations which he was
ordered to lay before the King, through Don Carlos Colonna, complaining
of the East India Company’s ships at the taking of Ormus. In the ship
called the _London_, were, it was alleged, goods stolen from the King of
Spain to the amount of five hundred thousand pounds. The very dishes
used by the lowest men in that ship were of silver, taken from some of
the very best families in Portugal, whom the English had plundered and
slain, and had then stamped their plate with their own arms. Jewels of
inestimable value had also been seized. It was therefore demanded that
these ships should be put into sequestration. It is a curious proof how
completely a feeling against the Spanish marriage had, by this time,
possessed every class, that, upon the arrival of these vessels in port,
the crews, hearing a report that the marriage with the Infanta was to be
broken off, shot off their artillery, and threw their caps into the sea
for joy.[14]
Footnote 14:
Letter from Madrid, State Papers, August 21, 1623.
Whilst the wooer, as the Prince was still styled, was murmuring at
delays and obstacles, others less lofty were sending complaints to
England, coupled with assurances of conjugal fidelity, which were more
suspicious than satisfactory. Amongst Buckingham’s most confidential
servants was Endymion Porter, who generally acted as his interpreter.
Porter, according to Arthur Wilson, "had been bred up in Spain when he
was a boy, and had the language, but found no other fortune there than
brought him to be Mr. Edward Villiers’s man in Fleet Street, before
either his master or the Marquis was acceptable at Whitehall." “It is
not intended,” adds the historian, "to vilify the persons, being men (in
this world’s lottery) as capable of advancement as others; but to shew
in how poor a bark the King ventured the right freight his son, having
only the Marquis to steer his course."
It was, indeed, remarkable that the agents most employed in the Duke’s
service were men who had raised themselves from all but menial stations.
Sir Robert Graham, whose name so often occurs in the correspondence of
this period, was “an underling of low degree” in Buckingham’s stable.
Cottington was originally a clerk to Sir Charles’s Cornwallis’s
secretary, when Cornwallis was ambassador in Spain. The letters of
Endymion Porter, also raised from mediocrity, are very characteristic of
the confidential servant of a great man, who, like himself, was of easy
principles. Among expressions of affection and grief for absence from
his wife, Olive, and allusions to their little son George, are mingled a
protestation that Endymion did not kiss the innkeeper’s daughter at
Boulogne. “Alas! alas! sweet Olive!” thus he writes, "why should you go
about to afflict me! Know that I live like a dying man, and as one that
cannot live long without you. My eyes grow weary in looking upon
anything, as wanting that rest they take in thy company and sight of
thee.
"We live very honest, and think of nothing but our wives. I thought to
have sent you a token of some value, but find my purse and my goodwill
could not agree, and considering that my letter would be welcome to you,
I leave to do it only this ring, which I hope you will esteem, if it be
not for love, I think for charity. The conceit is that it seems two as
you turn it, and ’tis but one.
“Sweet Olive! remember what it is to be sad, and forget not home. In our
poverty, we will live as richly as they that have the greatest plenty,
and bread with thy company shall please me better than the greatest
dainties in the world without it.”[15]
Footnote 15:
State Papers, May 28, 1623.
Olive Porter was, it seems, a humble relation of the Duchess of
Buckingham, who addresses her as “Cousin,” and who appears, by
Endymion’s letters, to have provided for Mistress Porter, since, in one
of his singular epistles, after hoping that there may be nothing more
said of any unkindness between them, Endymion sends his wife a jewel
worth some hundred pounds, telling her that “she might pawn it if she
had no more credit, but that Lady Buckingham had promised to supply her
wants.” Certain conduct of Mrs. Porter’s prompts jealousy, and Endymion
hints that, in his absence, “his wife has been merry with other young
men,” a charge which not even the most scandalous could adduce against
the pensive and irreproachable Duchess of Buckingham.
It was the lot of Endymion Porter to accompany Prince Charles on a very
interesting occasion; in the month of July, whilst the dispensation was
daily expected, Charles grew weary of the uniform Court gaieties, during
which he saw nothing but the Infanta, on whom his eyes were incessantly
fastened, as the inquisitive courtiers remarked.
“I have seen,” James Howell wrote from Madrid to Captain Porter, the
brother of Endymion, “the Prince have his eyes immovably fixed upon the
Infanta half an hour together, in a thoughtful, speculative posture,
which sure would needs be tedious, if affection did not succeed it.”
Lord Bristol, not very elegantly, remarked that Charles “watched her as
a cat does a mouse.” Still the royal pair were not allowed to be on the
terms of lovers; and the possibility, even at this last stage, of the
treaty never being concluded, kept these young persons apart. Nothing
could exceed the magnificence and courtly hospitality continually shown
to the “wooer;” everything was done to satisfy the Prince and his suite.
Nevertheless, whilst King Philip’s own servants waited upon the royal
guest at the palace, there were some among the English “who did jeer at
the Spanish fare, and use other slighting speeches and demeanour,”
which, of course, were reported, and occasioned ill will. Once a week
comedians came to the palace where the Prince was lodged, and Charles,
seated, with Don Carlos, on the right hand of the Queen, the Infanta
being in the middle, between her brother and his consort, taking the
chief place as Prince of England, feasted his eyes upon that fair but
soon forgotten face. The youthful King Philip was then under twenty, and
his brother, Don Fernando, a boy of twelve, nevertheless Archbishop of
Toledo and a Cardinal, was of all this royal family the only one who had
the true Spanish complexion; and seems to have been, on that account,
more beloved by the people, who were often heard to sigh and say:--"Oh,
when shall we have a king again of our own colour?"
Marked out thus for popularity by the true Spanish type, Don Carlos was
endowed with no office, dignity, nor title; he was only the King’s
“individual companion, dressed in similar garments, from top to toe,”
with the King, and when the King had new robes, others were always
provided for him; he was, in short, His Spanish Majesty’s shadow.[16]
Footnote 16:
Epistolæ Hoelianæ.
Thus fenced round with guardians and etiquette, the Infanta could only
publicly converse with Charles, and that through an interpreter, the
Earl of Bristol, “Our cousin, Archy” (King James’s fool) “hath,” says
the writer in Howell’s letters, “more privilege than any, for he goes
with his fool’s coat where the Infanta is with her meninas and maidens
of honour, and keeps a blowing and a blustering, and flirts out what he
lists. One day they were discoursing what a marvellous thing it was that
the Duke of Bavaria, with less than 15,000 men, after a long toylsome
march, should dare to encounter the Palsgower’s army, consisting of
about 25,000, and give them an utter discomfiture, and take Prague
presently after; wherefore he archly answered, that he would tell them a
stranger thing than that. ‘Was it not a stranger thing,’ quoth he, ‘that
in the year eighty-eight, there should come a fleet of one hundred and
forty sails from Spain to invade England, and that ten of these should
not go back to tell what became of the rest.’”[17]
Footnote 17:
Epistolæ Hoelianæ.
At last Charles was resolved to gain a private interview with her whom
he supposed to be his destined wife. Understanding that the Infanta was
in the habit of going early in the morning to the Caso del Campo, on the
other side of the river, to gather May-dew, he rose early, and went
thither, accompanied by Endymion Porter. “They were,” says Howell, “let
into the house, and into the garden, but the Infanta was in the orchard,
and there being a high partition wall between, and the door doubly
bolted, the Prince got on the top of the wall, and sprung down a great
height, and so made towards her; but she, spying him first of all the
rest, gave a shriek, and ran back. The old Marquis that was then her
guardian, came towards the Prince and fell on his knees, conjuring him
to retire, in regard he hazarded his head if he admitted him to her
company; so the door was opened, and he came out under that wall under
which he had got in.”
Often did the Prince watch “a long hour together,” in a close coach in
an open street, to see the Infanta, as she went abroad; and this conduct
appears to have been either the curiosity felt by a young man who
earnestly desires to love the individual chosen to be his wife, or a
gallantry natural to the age, and then the fashion in both nations, for
Charles soon either forgot the Infanta, or became indifferent to the
marriage. His affections were destined to rest ultimately upon one of a
very different character, as far as we can gather from the perhaps too
flattering accounts given by historians of the Infanta, to that of the
Spanish Princess.
Still, both the Prince and Buckingham sent encouraging accounts of the
progress of the treaty, and even inspired the poor King with a hope that
they should bring the Infanta over to England at Michaelmas. This was
almost the last letter in which such expectations were held out: it was
dated on the fifteenth of July. On that very day, the Archbishop Laud
stated in his diary of a violent and destructive tempest, which many,
says Camden, “took occasion to interpret as an ill-omen, but God
forbid.” It was a “very fair day,” the Archbishop records, "till towards
five at night; then great extremity of thunder and lightning, and much
hurt done; the lanthorn at St. James’s House blasted, the vane heading
the Prince’s arms beaten to pieces."
The Prince was then in Spain. It was Tuesday, and St. James’s day
(N.S.)[18]
Footnote 18:
Nichols, vol. iii., p. 227.
It appears, however, from Mr. Chamberlain’s letters,[19] that although
“Spanish tidings” were kept “very close,” the Prince had even then
written to the Duke of Richmond to procure him the King’s permission to
return home, as he was anxious to leave Spain.[20] About the same time a
letter from Endymion Porter, dated July twelfth, to his wife Olive,
intimated that the Prince was to be contracted in three weeks, but the
Infanta, than whom, he added, there never was a better creature, was to
follow in the following March.[21]
Footnote 19:
Dated July 12.
Footnote 20:
State Papers, vol. cxlviii., No. 12.
Footnote 21:
Ibid, No. 125.
Meantime the articles of agreement for the marriage were read publicly
by Secretary Calvert at Court, when the King of Spain swore to observe
them. The Infanta was to have an Archbishop and twenty-four priests in
her suite, and a chapel for her Spanish household, but no English were
to attend it. She was to be allowed the training of her children only
until they were ten years old. The Prince and Infanta were to sign the
contract of marriage on St. James’s day; that day which Laud had noted
in his Diary as one of storms and destruction.[22] At the same time that
a Romanist Archbishop and twenty-four priests were to be admitted into
the very heart of the Court, three Jesuits were imprisoned at Dover for
bringing over pictures and books; a subject of the British crown was
prosecuted in the Ecclesiastical court for not standing up at the creed,
or kneeling down at the Lord’s Prayer, in church; and a poor woman,
passing over from Calais, was brought up before the Commissioners of
Passage for having beads, which, she said, were bought to make
bracelets, and Popish books in her possession,[23] which, she asserted,
were for the use of the Spanish ambassador.
Footnote 22:
Ibid, vol. clix., No. 80.
Footnote 23:
State Papers, vol. xlix., Nos. 20 and 22.
When the articles of the Spanish match were read at the English Court,
then at Theobald’s, it was the Scottish lords who “stuck most” on points
of religion, but they were silenced by being told that there "must be no
disputing, the Prince being in the hands of the Spaniards, and the
restoration of the King’s children to be effected either by them or by a
war which would set all Christendom by the ears." Then the articles were
sworn to. The Archbishop of Spalato’s Jesuit confessor put on his hat
whilst the prayer for King James was being read. There was afterwards a
“gay and plentiful banquet;” but the Court had become very “rude,” as
Secretary Conway wrote to Sir George Goring, “for want of its ornaments,
which are in Spain; and but for the Earl of Carlisle, wearing of ruffs
and gartering of silk stockings would be forgotten.”
King James now began to be painfully eager for the fleet, which was to
fetch back his son and the Duke, to sail. “No impediment in the power of
man,” he decreed, should detain it. Every letter written by his
Secretaries of State to Lord Middlesex was to end with, “His Majesty
cries, haste away the ships, as you tender the life of himself and his
son.” Good tidings still arrived from Madrid; more liberty of
communication between the Prince and the Infanta was allowed; but the
contract, fixed for St. James’s Day, was not fulfilled, and the ill-omen
was, in the minds of the superstitious, confirmed.[24]
Footnote 24:
State Papers, vol. xlix., No. 69.
Meantime, whilst such was the state of things at the Spanish Court,
their ambassadors here were in vain endeavouring to obtain indulgence
for recusants. Whilst these conflicting interests were thus impeding a
speedy settlement of the Spanish match, Buckingham had other reasons,
besides weariness of foreign life, to induce him to wish to return home.
His affairs were greatly involved, and he found it, indeed, necessary,
at this time, to employ several of his friends, among whom was Sir John
Suckling, to examine into them. Their answers were far from
satisfactory. His revenue, they stated in reply, from land, offices,
&c., was 15,213_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._ a year. His expenditure was 14,700_l._
Out of this, 3,000_l._ was allowed to the Duchess for housekeeping,
2,000_l._ was allowed to his mother, the Countess of Buckingham; the
costly diversion of tilting cost 1,000_l._ a year, about as much as a
yacht in modern times. Then his friends gave him no very pleasant
intelligence about his debts; they had amounted, when the Duke went to
Spain, to 24,000_l._, and were now increased by 29,400_l._--money having
been advanced to him whilst shining at the Court of Madrid. His friends
had cleared off 17,300_l._ by selling land, and were to apply 2,500_l._
to be paid from his Irish revenues, and they now proposed similar means
of discharging the remainder, which, they said, would otherwise ruin his
estate. His income, they gravely told him, but little exceeded his
expenditure; whereas, those who wish to leave a patrimony behind them do
not spend more than two-thirds of their income[25]--an excellent rule,
but not much better observed in those days than in ours. Half the
nobility appear to have been deeply involved in debt, and hence their
tendency to corrupt practices. Even the honest-hearted Sir Edward Coke
was, we are told, “half-crazied” by his debts, which amounted to
26,000_l._[26] In consequence, it may be presumed, of these
embarrassments, the King, at this time, wrote to his “sweete Steenie,”
announcing a present to him of 2,000_l._ from the East India Company by
way of consolation.[27]
Footnote 25:
State Papers, vol. cxlix., No. 91.
Footnote 26:
Nichols, p. 887.
Footnote 27:
Ibid, p. 887; from Birch’s MSS., Brit. Museum, 4174.
The Duke was also made now fully aware of the responsibility he had
incurred in taking the Prince to Spain. Reports were often circulated
that he had been made a prisoner there. Shortly afterwards James, being
agitated with this fear, was assured that, “if there be trust on earth,”
the Prince and Infanta were to be moving home on the twenty-eighth of
August.
The King, meantime, wrote plaintively to his “sweete boyes.” He kept
what he called the “feaste,” on the anniversary of the Gowry plot, at
Salisbury, on the fifth of August, where the Spanish ambassador and all
the _corps diplomatique_ were conveyed, at the King’s expense, in
coaches, which cost twenty pounds a day; and here, besides a brace of
bucks and a stag every day, the provision made for these Spanish
grandees was so plentiful that, not being able to use it, they were
stated to have buried it under dunghills, rather than bestow it upon
heretics. “And though,” says Mr. Chamberlain, referring to this report,
“I took it for a scandal or slander, yet I have heard it verified more
than once; and that the neighbours were forced to complain, though to
little purpose, for, I know not how, the Spaniard hath got such a hand
everywhere, that he carries more away, when he comes, than all other
ambassadors together.”[28]
Footnote 28:
It seems that this expensive allowance to the ambassadors was suffered
to go on till after the 14th of August, when Secretary Conway wrote to
Secretary Calvert to complain that it had not then been discontinued,
and that the delay in doing so put the King out of all patience,
fearing that the letters written on the subject were lost. The post,
Conway remarks, travels slowly, taking ten hours from London to
Staines. He recommends reformation therein.--State Papers, vol. cl.,
No. 98.
Buckingham, we are told, “lay at home under a million of
maledictions.”[29] The poor King, indifferent to public opinion, and now
visibly declining in health, was nevertheless constantly writing to
Madrid in such terms as these:--"If ye haisten not hoame, I apprehende I
shale never see you, for my longing will kill mee." To the Prince
individually, he expressed himself in terms which left Charles no
alternative but to return. “The necessitie of my affaires,” the King
wrote, “enforced me to tell you that ye must preferre the obedience to a
father to the love ye carrie to a mistresse.” Eager to do away with
every possible impediment to the marriage, the King, on the seventh of
August, signed, whilst at Salisbury, the “declaration, touching the
pardons, suspensions, and dispensations of the Roman Catholics.”[30]
Footnote 29:
Sir H. Wotton, p. 218.
Footnote 30:
Nichols, p. 888.
The Prince had, it appears, at this very time, “been packed up,” and
ready to depart, leaving matters to be arranged afterwards. Yet the
Spanish ambassadors at home expressed themselves contented, and ready to
fulfil all promises. Sir Edward Herbert, speaking to the Marquis
Inojosa, of a report in France that the Prince was detained a prisoner
in Spain, received an answer that it was the Prince whose virtues had
captivated the King of Spain;[31] and for some time compliments and
assurances continued to be exchanged.
Footnote 31:
State Papers, cxlix., No. 107.
On the twenty-first of August, the King visited the ships which were to
go to Spain, under the command of the Earl of Rutland, who was
unfortunately absent, upon the earnest entreaty of his daughter, the
Duchess of Buckingham, and of his grandchild, Lady Mary, that he would
remain with them. At the end of that month, nevertheless, the fleet was
still detained for fifteen days, in the vain hope of receiving news of
the Prince’s marriage. The Pope’s illness, it was now said, was delaying
the dispensation; but Buckingham’s conduct was, according to a letter
from Sir Francis Woolley to Carleton, “much commended.” He was,
nevertheless, more impatient than ever to return, and that eagerness was
sure, it was thought, to hinder rather than accelerate the wished-for
nuptials. In addition to his other troubles, Buckingham had now a very
grievous one in the visitation which had fallen, during his absence,
upon Lord Purbeck, his favourite brother, who became insane. As usual,
under every circumstance, the greatest good sense was shown by the
Duchess of Buckingham. She wrote to Secretary Conway to inform him that
the unfortunate Viscount’s “distemper now inclined to his usual
melancholy fit,” during which he was gentle, and “could be removed
anywhere, but that at present he would be outrageous were it attempted;”
she suggests, therefore, that Sir John Keysley, and a few other friends,
had better remain with him in London.
The King, replying through his secretary, said that he admired the
Duchess’s gentleness, but that Purbeck’s malady, exciting him to public
acts, in public places, which dishonoured himself and his brothers, made
it necessary to place him under some restraint, and to remove him into
the country.[32] Lord Purbeck, it seems, was therefore put under
restraint. Such was the end of that ambitious career which the Duke had
hoped to witness, and so pave the way to which he had promoted the
marriage with Sir Edward Coke’s unhappy daughter.
Footnote 32:
State Papers, vol. cli., Nos. 86, 87.
Whilst a degree of gloom and anxiety thus overspread his home,
Buckingham was witnessing, in the festivities given to honour the
expected espousals, one of the most characteristic diversions of the
Spanish nation. This was the “Fuego de Caunas,”--borrowed from the
Moors, and still practised by Eastern nations, under the name of El
Djerid. “It is,” says Sir Walter Scott, “a sort of rehearsal of the
encounter of their light horsemen, armed with darts, as the Tourney
represented the charge of the feudal cavaliers with their lances. In
both cases, the difference between sport and reality only consisted in
the weapons being sharp or pointless.”[33]
Footnote 33:
Somers’s Tracts, vol. ii., p. 352.
This entertainment was ordered by the King of Spain, who was not
contented with the festivities hitherto given in honour of the Prince of
Wales, and was held at Madrid, in the Market Place, containing
scaffolding for a great concourse of strangers, who were present. The
Infanta appeared on this occasion in white, as an unspotted dove, “after
the Majesty of England;” the manes of her coach horses were twisted with
blue ribbands, in compliment to her future consort; and there
accompanied the Lady Infanta, says the Spanish annalist, “Don Fernando,
her brother, clothed in Romane purple, that radiant sunne of the church,
even as his sister is the resplendent beames of true beauty,”[34] this
“radiant sunne of the church;” being, as it has been before stated, a
boy of twelve years of age. The Queen was carried in a chair of state,
followed by her meninas (or minions) and ladies. The King, about two
o’clock, arrived in a coach with the Prince of Wales, and his brothers,
“brave with gravity,” says the chronicler, and “grave in bravery.”
Philip was in black, Prince Charles in white, their dresses divided in
fashion, half after the English, and half after the Spanish manner;
Charles being placed on the right hand of the King.
Footnote 34:
A Relation of the Royal Festivities and Fuego Canad. By Don Antonio de
la Penna, from a translation in the British Museum.--Nichols, p. 889.
Then came four and twenty movable fountains, with a supply of beverages;
and next entered into the Market Place His Majesty’s four and twenty
musicians, and servants in satin liveries, carnation colour, guarded
with silver lace, interspersed with folds of black velvet in large
cassocks, with black hats and carnation plumes, mounted on goodly
horses. Next appeared the King’s equerries, leading the way, uncovered,
before a noble courser on which His Majesty was to run: and, amongst the
numerous retinue that followed, were four farriers with pouches of
crimson velvet, in which all that was requisite for shoeing horses was
contained. Sixty horses of brown bay, in white and black trappings, with
muzzles of silver, and covered with crimson velvet, embroidered with the
arms of Philip IV., were led by lacqueys in carnation satin, their hose
and jacket decorated with black and silver lace. Next came forty
“youngsters of the stables,” dressed in the Turkish fashion, and lastly,
twelve mules, laden with bunches of canes, and caparisoned in similar
fashion with the horses. To add to the convenience of the equestrians,
steps of fine wood, inlaid with ebony, and covered with carnation
taffeta, with fringes of gold, were also brought into the Market Place.
The livery of the town was of orange colour, relieved with silver; and
it may easily be conceived how splendid was the effect of these gorgeous
dresses, set off by the badges worked in silver, beneath a cloudless
sky, with the far-famed Spanish coursers prancing under their gorgeous
caparisons, and all the beauty and rank of the city ranged as beholders.
Mingled with these retainers, were those of the great Spanish grandees.
First came Don Duarte, the Duke of Infantado, with forty horses, in
white and black caparisons, with the glorious blazon of the Ave Maria
upon them; and after the last horse, came the Rider, as he was called on
this occasion.
Next followed Don Pedro of Toledo, the pride of Castilian knights, with
a troop of sorrel horses. Next, that of the Admiral of Castile, whose
retainers wore long coats of black satin, and yellow and white plumes,
and were followed by the farrier--a functionary attached to each troop.
Presently, the Condé de Monterey, the Duke of Sessa and the Duke of
Cea’s horse, all in liveries of various colours, made up the number of
five hundred and eighty-six cavaliers; augmented by muleteers, farriers,
and grooms, in number a hundred and forty-four. This unrivalled troop,
glittering with silver plumes and emblazonments, took an hour to make
their entrance. After “baiting but a few bulls,” says the chronicler,
the running with the canes commenced.
King Philip, followed by his thaclow, Don Carlos, then went to mask
himself for the sport, at the house of the Condessa Miranda, who had
been previously apprised of the intended honour. Her reception of the
young monarch is characteristic of the minute, though stately,
hospitality of that period. She whitened her house all over for the
occasion; she hung round the courts with draperies; in the portals of
the King’s apartment these were of white damask, with gold fringe. Beds
were prepared for the King and Infant Carlos; and these were brought
from the royal palace; the rooms were washed with sweet powder and water
mingled with ambar, and were replete with fragrance. Next to the
apartment of His Majesty, there was one provided for the Condé Olivares,
with a bed of rich needle-work. The Condessa Miranda also provided for
the King and Don Carlos each a shirt to change, which they put on; she
gave each of her royal guests boxes of relics, of inestimable value: to
the King, one of St. Philip the Apostle; to the Infant, one of St.
Lawrence, given to the Condessa by Pope Sixtus V., when she was at
Naples; and these reliques were the more valuable because the vessel in
which they had been sent was sunk, but the trunk in which they came was
seen in the water, and was sent to the Condé of Miranda, by the famous
John Andrea Dorea, which miraculous incident proves, says the Spanish
historian, “the certainty of reliques;” this gift was esteemed a “pious
and discreet present, on such occasions, to such persons.” The Condessa
had also gloves and handkerchiefs, for her royal guests, in cabinets of
rock crystal, set in gold; sweet cake to be eaten, in crystal glasses;
and crystal apples, filled with sweet waters. All these carefully
arranged courtesies must have seemed indeed singular to Prince Charles
and Buckingham, when they, who had come from a Court in which people had
almost begun to show outward disrespect to the King, by leaving off
ruffs and plumes, witnessed these refinements of hospitality.
More than all, it must have astonished them, considering the festive
nature of the occasion, had they not been accustomed now to Spanish
modes, that the Condessa, being most “wise and discreet,” had procured
that the Holy Sacrament, in the Monastery of the Holy Trinity, should be
exhibited before her window, with great solemnity of lights and
ornaments. On bended knees, the two young Princes humbly and devoutly
worshipped the sacred elements, previous to returning to their
apartments to put on their masks. In that room they found about forty
plates of silver, with all manner of conserves on them, and rose-sugar
confections. The honour shown to the Condessa in thus selecting her to
be the hostess, was, it was alleged, only a renewal of the favour
exhibited by Philip the Second, the grandfather of the King, to that
illustrious lady when she was vice-Queen of Barcelona.
After this preparation, the running commenced. The canes were
distributed to each runner, and, according to ancient custom, the King
chose the Condé Olivares for his own encounter, and the Infant Carlos,
the Marquis of Carpio. The palm of skill and bravery was, of course,
accorded to these royal brothers, and on the Duke of Cea’s delivering to
the King the canes, the place rang with shouts of “Long live their
Majesties,” a cry which London doubtless would re-echo as this
“triumpant show,” says the annalist, “was made to honour her Prince, and
in a time of such vehement heate, though now it was qualified.”[35]
Footnote 35:
Nichols, 901.
This grand festivity was probably the cause of a serious illness to
Buckingham, for, a day afterwards, Charles wrote to his father that his
“dog” was not to be troubled with writing, having taken cold, which had
ended in an ague. The Duke had been bled, and was recovered; the Prince
concluded by warning the King that in spite of his efforts to keep his
letters private, they had been seen in London, by the French
ambassador’s means, by the Spanish ambassador, and that His Majesty was
“betrayed in his bedchamber.”
Buckingham added in a postscript:--"Sir, I have bine the willinger to
let your sone play the secretary at this time of little neade, that you
may see the extraordinary care he hath of me, for which I will not
intreat you not to love him the wors--nor him that thretens you that
when he once getts hould of your bed-post againe never to quitt it."
The period for Charles’s return home with the Princess was now at
hand.[36] It was arranged with the King of Spain that, upon the arrival
of the Pope’s approbation of some articles that had lately been sent to
him, he should be empowered to have the Infanta married by proxy; and
that, meantime, she should be styled “Princessa de Inglatierra,” and be
considered in every respect as the betrothed wife of Prince Charles.
“This day we take our leaves,” the Prince, on the twenty-fifth of
August, wrote to his father; his letter was accompanied by one from the
Earl of Bristol, stating that the King of Spain and his ministers had
grown “to have so high a dislike of the Duke of Buckingham,” and
considered him to be so adverse to the treaty, and to exercise so great
an influence over Prince Charles, that they hoped it might not be in his
power to make the Infanta’s life less happy there (in England), or to
embroil the two kingdoms. “Suspicions and distastes betwixt them here
and my Lord of Buckingham,” Bristol said, “could not be at a greater
height.” This was the first letter that Bristol wrote prejudicial to
Buckingham.
Footnote 36:
Nichols, 903.
Nevertheless, at the very same moment, the Duke wrote to his master
thus:--"Sir,--He bring all things with me you have desired, except the
Infanta, which hath almost broken my heart, because yours, your sone’s,
and the nation’s honour is touched by the miss of it; but since it’s
there falt (their fault) here, and not ours, wee will bere it the
better; and when I shall have the happiness to lie at your feete, you
shall then knowe the truth of it, and no more."[37]
Footnote 37:
Nichols, 905.
In another letter from Bristol, James was given to understand that the
compact entered into by his son was a solemn and formal promise; but
that an afterthought impelled him to make the powers with which he had
entrusted Bristol contingent:
"May it please your Majesty,
"By my cosen, Simon Digby, I gave your Majesty an account of all
that passed here upon the Prince his departure, and that according to
what was capitulated. His Highness had left powers for the marrying of
the Infanta, _per verba de presenti_, which powers were made unto the
King and his brother, Don Carlos, but left with me to be delivered upon
the arrival of the Pope’s approbation, and so declared to be His
Highnesse’ pleasure before all this King’s Ministers that were present
at the solemne act of passing the Prince his powers unto the King. Since
His Highnesse’ departure, I have receaved commandement from His Highness
not to make deliverie of the said powers untill His Highness shall be
satisfied what securitie may be given him that the Infanta may not
become a religious woman[38] after the betroathing; and that I expect
his further pleasure therein, as y^r Majestie will see by the coppie of
His Highnesse’ letter unto me, which I presume to send your Majestie, as
likewise the answer which in that point I make unto His Highnesse, to
the end your Majestie may have perfect information of the whole estate
of the businesse. For that I conceave the temporal articles are so farr
agreed that I have to give your Majestie an account of them within a few
daies, and to youre content, and the businesse, after so manie rubbs,
brought to that estate that I am confident there will not be any failing
in any pointe capitulated betwixt your Majesty and His Highnesse, but
all will be punctuallie performed. I conceave your Majestie, continuing
your desire of the match, would be loath to have the faire way it is now
in to be clogged or interrupted with any new jealousie that may now be
raised, for questionlesse there is no securitie in that particular, that
can on His Highnesse’ part be required, that they will refuse him."[39]
Footnote 38:
A professed nun.
Footnote 39:
State Papers, 1623. Foreign.
The character of Charles, composed, as Hume remarks, “of decency,
reserve, modesty, sobriety, virtues so agreeable to the manners of the
Spaniards;”[40] the reliance he had placed on their honour, his romantic
gallantry, the invariable courtesy of his demeanour to every person,
whether prince, or peer, or the lowest groom of his household; a
courtesy springing from a gentle nature, elevated and refined by careful
culture; these attributes were strongly contrasted with the impetuous
temper of Buckingham. There are moments when sincerity becomes
insolence; and when Buckingham, at his last interview with Olivares,
told him that his attachment to the Spanish nation, and to the King, was
extreme, and that he should use every endeavour in his power to cement
the friendship between England and Spain, but that, as for him, the
Condé Olivares, “he need never consider him as a friend, but must ever
expect from him every possible opposition and enmity,” he was well
reproved by the grave and lofty answer, “that Olivares very willingly
accepted what was offered him.” Thus they parted.[41]
Footnote 40:
Confirmed by State Papers, vol. cliii., No. 44.
Footnote 41:
Hume, from Rushworth’s Collection’s, vol i., p. 103.
There were, however, many who approved this defiant manner, and called
the conduct of the Duke “brave and resolute;” and certainly there was
much in the character of Olivares to extenuate the bitterness of
Buckingham’s dislike. Lord Bristol, however, imputed all the mistrust
and failure that ensued to Buckingham. “The Prince,” he said, "had left
men’s hearts set upon him." “And the leave-taking,” adds the ambassador,
“betwixt him and the King, was with as great profession of love and
affection as could be, of which I was a witness, being interpreter
betwixt them.”[42]
Footnote 42:
Nichols, p. 913. From Haddwicke State Papers, vol. i, p. 476.
Every possible demonstration of honour was proffered to the Prince and
Duke at their departure. To the last, the pages of the Condé Olivares
attended, as they had done all along, on Buckingham--there was no
apparent change of feeling, nor diminution of respect.
The farewell presents, too numerous to be fully recited, were
magnificent. Among them were, given to the Prince by the King, eighteen
Spanish jennets, six Barbary horses, six mares, and twenty foals. These
superb animals were covered with cloths of crimson velvet, guarded with
gold lace; one of them being distinguished by a saddle of fine
lamb-skin, the other “furniture” being set with rich pearl; among a
number of cross-bows which were given, those used by the Dukes of Medina
Sidonia and Ossunia, in the wars, were peculiarly valuable to the
Prince.
To Buckingham’s share, among others, were several Spanish jennets, and
Barbary or Arabian horses, and a splendid diamond girdle, worth thirty
thousand crowns.
Thu Queen presented the young Prince with linen, and skins of ambar and
of kids, their scent and perfume amounting in value to many thousand
crowns.
Twice, before his leaving for ever the Spanish capital, did Charles, in
company with the King, visit the Infanta. She had retreated to the
monastery of the Descallas, or bare-legged friars; and it was, perhaps,
her extreme piety that inspired the Prince with the fear that she might,
after her betrothal, become a nun, and in that way avoid espousing a
heretic. She received him with “tears of joy,” and gave the Prince many
boxes of scents, flowers, and curiosites of great value. The Prince’s
gifts to the Infanta consisted of a string of two hundred and fifty
great pear-shaped pearls, one of them with a diamond which could not be
valued, and two pairs of pearl-shaped ear-rings, marvellous great.”
Amongst the officers and retainers of the Court, the Prince gave, in
various ways, the sum of twelve thousand pounds.
At their last interview in Madrid, the King of Spain wore black, as a
token of mourning at their departure; but the final parting was in a
field near the Escurial, the place appointed for their adieus. Philip
had been desirous of showing to the English that wonder of Europe, with
its thirteen courts, its grand marble structure, its statue of St.
Lawrence over the gate, with his gridiron in his hand. Here Philip, the
Queen, the Infant, and his brothers pointed out, with just pride, the
fine cloisters, three stories high, the libraries, sepulchres, chapels,
and graves. About a hundred friars were resident at this time in the
house, which it required half a day to go over. That part appropriated
to royal residence was wholly unsuitable to the purpose. It is a
remarkable fact that, when Charles the First was in Spain, there was
only one kitchen in the Escurial; neither was there a hall, nor offices
below stairs fit for a royal abode; so that, as Sir Richard Wynn
remarked, "it was never intended for a king’s palace, but for the
goodliest monastery in the world, which it is."[43]
Footnote 43:
Narrative of the journey of the Prince’s servants into Spain; printed
at the end of the Life of Richard II., by Hearne.
The church, with its twenty altars, and enormous silver candlesticks,
higher and heavier than a man; the wonderful chapel at the extremity,
with curiously painted roofs and desks of silver; the marble fountains
playing in every court; the invaluable paintings in the churches and
chapels, collected in all parts of the world, were then in undisturbed
freshness; the convulsions of war and revolutions, and the hand of time,
have since dimmed their splendour, but the Escurial stands unscathed on
the side of a mountain. Stern in cloistral gloom rather than beautiful,
it had then a narrow strip of garden round two sides, with walks and
“knots of flowers,” and a pond at one extremity, in which the friars
were accustomed to fish. Most of them had their apartments provided with
a chapel; all had mules for riding, for walking was forbidden to these
monks, even to a short distance.[44]
Footnote 44:
It was improved before the time of the Commonwealth, when Lady
Fanshawe describes it as approached by a double row of elms, and
having a large park well stored with wood and water; she speaks of
seventeen courts, with gardens in each, and of a very fine palace; the
walls of the building were of marble, so polished that Titian had
painted them “all over.” She says also that the palace is “royally
furnished.”--See Miss Costello’s Life of Lady Fanshawe, p. 389.
In a field near this grand building, the King and Prince sat and
conversed an hour; a pillar, it was afterwards decided, was to be
erected on the spot where this last interview took place; “wherein,”
wrote Mr. Chamberlain, “the Duke of Buckingham is quite forgotten, as if
he had been none of the company.” The Queen, the Infanta, and her
brothers, embraced the Prince who so soon became their foe. The English
lords and gentlemen kissed the King’s hands, the Spaniards those of the
Prince, “returning,” says the chronicler, “to embrace us again with
wonderful demonstrations of love.” Then the Prince took his final
departure, attended by the Condé de Monterey, Gondomar, Buckingham, and
Lord Bristol, and pursued his journey to Segovia, which had been
recommended to him, according to Sir Richard Wynn, as the only thing
worth seeing after the Escurial. “It was then,” says Wynn, “a large
town, but much ruinous, having a great castle, kept in very good repair,
in which there be two goodly rooms, whose roofes are the richest, done
with gold, and incrusting, of an old manner, but wonderful costly.” Here
Charles was welcomed with a salute of artillery, and alighting, he went
over the palace, extolling the memory of Philip the Second, who had
rebuilt it, and expressing great pleasure at seeing his arms quartered
with the Spanish scutcheons in the great hall,--Henry the Third of
Spain, having married Catherine, daughter of John of Gaunt, in right of
whom Philip the Second pretended to derive his claim to the crown of
England after the death of Mary. In this palace, Charles was
magnificently entertained; and in the evening, whilst fireworks and
torches threw their light upon the scene, the Alcayd of that royal house
presented him with a gallant mask of thirty-two-knights, and proposed to
honour him by a bull-fight on the ensuing day; but he declined the
terrible amusement, being in haste to depart.
Charles--and doubtless Buckingham (although in this decline of favour in
Spain, he is rarely alluded to by the chroniclers)--in stopping at
Valladolid, had great delight in seeing some of the finest productions
of Michael Angelo and of Raphael. Before the Prince entered the city, an
individual who was the object of dread and jealousy, and who was still
more hated by Olivares than even Buckingham, was withdrawn from amid
those who vied in offering their homage to the Prince. This was the
Cardinal Duke of Lerma, the disgraced minister and favourite of Philip,
who was ordered to leave Valladolid before Charles entered it. The
affront sank deep into the old man’s heart, as he had greatly wished to
see the Prince. The Duke of Lerma was considered to be more favourable
to the English alliance than Olivares, and he had formerly projected a
union between Anne of Austria, then Infanta, and Henry, the last Prince
of Wales. He lived generally at Valladolid, retiring, as was the custom
with the Spaniards of rank, after sixty, to a place of quiet and
devotion; officiating, and singing mass, and passing his days in charity
and piety. “This,” as Howell remarks, “doth not suit well with the
genius of an Englishman, who loves not to pull off his clothes till he
goes to bed.” The remark shows that our countrymen were then, as now,
the last in Europe to give up the intellectual or military career to
which their youth had been devoted, and which, during their middle life,
had been their source of pride and prosperity.
The conduct of Olivares to the Cardinal Duke seems to betray a rancorous
spirit, which may somewhat extenuate the haughty bearing of Buckingham
to the ruling favourite. Lerma’s fall was signal; he had been the
greatest favourite, save one, ever known in the Spanish Court; and he
was, as a grandee of Spain, privileged to stand covered before the King.
Had it not, however, been for his ecclesiastical dignity, which
protected him, the Duke of Lerma would have sunk, under the persecutions
of Olivares, into utter ruin.
Meantime, whilst the Prince was thus journeying to the coast, Sir John
Finet, the assistant Master of the Ceremonies to King James, being also
a naval commander, had set sail in May with certain ships, now in the
port of St. Andero, in Biscay. They had been three months in their
voyage from England, and Finet had been ordered to apprize the Prince of
the Earl of Rutland’s arrival in the same port; but that event not
having taken place, he rowed ashore, and crossing several mountains in
the darkness of a tempestuous night, met the Prince and Duke at about
six leagues distance from the town. Charles was beside himself with joy
on seeing Finet, and told him that he looked upon him “as one that had
the face of an angel,” for bringing such good news. Buckingham, when he
afterwards beheld him, was equally enraptured, and drawing from his
finger a ring worth a hundred pounds, gave it to Finet.
Prince Charles arrived at St. Andero on St. Matthew’s day. Whilst at
dinner outside of the town, he heard that the whole fleet, under the
command of the Earl of Rutland, lay at anchor near the harbour. Charles
hastened to the port, and hurrying through the town amid volleys of
musketry and the firing of cannon in his honour, went on board that very
afternoon. The _Prince_, a vessel which was a source of great pride to
the English, contained the admiral of the fleet. In returning that night
in his own barge, rowed by watermen, well accustomed to the Thames, but
little fitted to cope with a swelling sea, the Prince was in imminent
peril. In the hurry of the moment, neither master, pilot, nor mariner of
experience were sent in his barge; the town was, at least, at the
distance of a Spanish league from the ships, and before the boat could
near the shore, a storm arose. The Prince’s watermen were, says the
chroniclers, “strong, cunning, and courageous, but the furious waves
taught their oares another manner of practice than ever they were put to
on the Thames.” They soon found it impossible to reach the town. Not
only did the tempest rage, but there lay at the very mouth of the
harbour a barque, which was there for refuge, so that it was dangerous
to approach it; neither did the dismayed boatmen dare to make for the
shore; it was studded with rocks; almost equally perilous would it have
been to return to the ships, for the night was dark, and, in case of
missing them, the boat, with its precious freight, might be carried out
into the main seas, the channel where the fleet anchored running with an
impetuous and irresistible torrent.
It was a singular and critical situation. Here was the heir to a great
kingdom, close, on the one hand, to a city which was ringing with
acclamations at his arrival; on the other, near to a fleet which the
most anxious precautions had sent for his service--and yet, scarcely
would a peasant in his father’s dominions have been placed in such a
plight for want of ordinary care, or, perhaps, owing to the jealousy of
the boatmen and their dislike to foreign aid.
“In this full sea of horrors,” to borrow the somewhat flowery language
of the narrator, the Prince resolved to turn back towards the ships, and
to fall upon the first that could be fastened on, rather than to run the
risk of being wrecked on one of the rocks, which threatened immediate
destruction.
The storm continued to rage, and the night became darker and darker.
Charles and Buckingham could, at this moment, see the lights streaming
from the town, and dimly, perhaps, discern the track of the English
fleet. Soon all was enveloped in the deepest gloom. At such a moment the
mind can only turn to one source of help, and to that, doubtless, the
young and reflective Prince, who afterwards met the sternest trials of
life with a lofty resignation, did revert, whatever may have been the
case with his spoiled, impetuous favourite.
“At last,” as the chronicler observes, “that Omnipotent arm, which can
tear up rocks from their center, and that voyce which can call in the
winds, and still them with the moving of His finger, sent a dove with an
olive branch in her bill, as an assurance of comfort.”
Sir Sackwill Trevor, the commander of the _Defiance_, perceived at this
crisis the peril of the Prince; by his order, casks and buoys, with
lights fastened to them by some ropes, were thrown out, and the watermen
seized hold of these, though at the risk of their lives. A light was now
discerned in the ship _Defiance_, and the Prince was soon safely
received on board, where he spent the night, by no means, as it is said,
daunted by these terrors.
On the ensuing day Charles went on shore, but returned on the same
evening to the fleet. On Sunday, the fourteenth of September, he
entertained Gondomar and the other grandees who had been commissioned to
attend him to the coast on board the _Prince_.
The dinner consisted, according to Phineas Pette, who was in the ship,
“of no other than we brought from England with us.” Stalled oxen, fatted
sheep, venison, and all manner of fowl were presented to those who
would, perhaps, never see such a repast spread before them again. A long
table for persons of inferior quality was set in the great cabin, and
across this another was placed, where Charles and the chief personages
sat. Healths were drunk; the Spaniards were delighted with the ships,
but still more with the graceful and courteous manners of Charles.
Never, it is said, had a stranger so won upon the affections of a
people, as this young Prince had done in Spain, independently of his
generosity and liberality at parting, when he ordered that the gifts and
rewards of all those who had attended him in his journey, should be
double in value to what he had before specified. “We have found some
difficulty,” Lord Bristol wrote to Calvert, "in taking up the monies,
but I shall, God willing, see it perfectly performed to his highness’s
honour."[45]
Footnote 45:
Nichols, p. 923, from Haddwicke Papers, vol. i., p. 475.
Some days elapsed before the _Prince_ weighed anchor. At last, on the
eighteenth of September, Charles bade adieu to Spain, and with it,
probably, to the sunshine of his youth. For James was now visibly
declining, and his son was soon to be called upon to fulfil duties which
he comprehended not in their just spirit, and to contend with bold,
intelligent, indignant subjects, whom he also imperfectly understood.
As the sails were swelling with the breeze, the Prince and the other
English gentlemen stood on deck taking leave, in dumb show, of the
throng of Spaniards who saluted them from the shore. The wind was now
prosperous, but a voyage of nine days awaited the impatient Prince
before he could touch English ground.
The fleet consisted of ten ships of the line; that styled the _Prince_
was of twelve hundred tons burthen, the others considerably less. In
eight days they arrived within twelve miles of the Scilly Islands. The
Council who were entrusted with the convoy of Charles debated on the
propriety of his landing on this remote point, and were unanimous
against it. Several pilots had come on board, but were dismissed. After
supper, however, Charles suddenly ordered out the long boat and the
ketch, and announced his intention of landing, accompanied by
Buckingham.
About one o’clock at night they got into the long boat, and being
saluted with a volley from the ship, made for St Mary’s Island, where
the Prince and all his companions landed about seven in the morning. In
the castle the Prince and Buckingham remained four days, and were taken
again on board of the fleet on the third of October; and on the fifth of
the same month, in the afternoon, arrived at Portsmouth,[46] having been
in all seventeen days at sea. Charles proceeded at once to the house of
Lord Annandale, near Guildford, and reached York House at eight the next
morning; thus paying Buckingham the honour of going first to his house
in London. Here he met the Privy Council, and refused an unreasonable
request by the Spanish ambassador for a prior audience. [47]
Footnote 46:
Nichols, p. 926, from the Diary of Phineas Pette. There were four
narratives of persons who had their voyage to Spain printed--Lord
Carey of Leppington, Sir Richard Wynn, Sir John Finet and Phineas
Pette.
Footnote 47:
State Papers, Calendar, vol. cliii., p. 44.
Never was there more general or more enthusiastic joy expressed than on
this occasion, and, amongst other demonstrations, a bonfire, which cost
a hundred pounds, was kindled at Guildhall. It is supposed to have been
composed of forfeited logwood, prohibited to the dyers, which had been
seized. Shops were closed; the streets were spread with tables of
provisions, and with hogsheads of wine and butts of sack; the people
were mad with joy. If they met a cart full of wood, they took out the
horse, and set the wood and the cart on fire. At St. Paul’s a new anthem
was sung, the words being taken from the 114th psalm:--"When shall I
come out of Egypt, and the house of Jacob from among the barbarous
people?"
The battlements of St. Paul’s Cross displayed as many burning torches as
the years of the young Prince in age; two enormous bonfires lighted up
the enclosure around the cross, whilst fireworks, squibs, crackers, and
rockets added to the general illumination of the city, in which, between
St. Paul’s and London Bridge, no fewer than a hundred and eight bonfires
were kindled. But the most interesting of all the incidents of that day
was the reprieve of six men and two women, whom the Prince met on their
road to Tyburn, where they were being taken for execution. At Royston,
the King came down on the stairs to receive the travellers. The Prince
and Duke kneeled down as they beheld the infirm monarch hastening to
them; but the King fell on their necks, and they all wept together. A
post was despatched to the Duchess and Countess of Buckingham, and to
the Countess of Denbigh, to come to Royston.[48]
Footnote 48:
State Papers, vol. cliii., No. 44.
Whilst the public rejoicings in almost every town in the kingdom did
honour to "England’s Joy," as Charles was then called, Buckingham
gleaned some good from this safe return. The confidence of the people
appeared to be restored to him. There was a general impression that even
before Charles had quitted Spain, the match with the Infanta was
virtually at an end; and this was partially confirmed when the Spanish
ambassadors, having set out towards Royston, to congratulate the Prince,
were met at Buntingford by Secretary Conway, to say that Royston being
“a place of ill reception,” they were not to sleep there that night, but
must return to Buntingford the same evening. This was by no means an
agreeable intimation to the Marquis Inojosa, since it was but a week
before that the French ambassador had both supped and lodged at Royston,
though going unexpectedly; nevertheless, the Marquis proceeded to
Royston, and had apparently a gracious reception from the King and
Prince; neither did they “speak amiss” of the Duke’s manner on the
awkward occasion. “Welcome home!” was for a long time the burden of the
Court and country. One amongst the least meritorious of Buckingham’s
dependants, Tobie Mathew, was knighted at Royston, where James and his
favourite kept their intentions with regard to Spain profoundly secret.
Mathew owed, indeed, his very presence at Court to Buckingham, who had
interceded for him when banished on account of his conversion to Popery
by the Jesuit Parsons. Mathew, when at Madrid with the Duke, had written
a description of the Infanta, which he styled a picture “drawn in black
and whyte,” for James’s amusement. “We pray you,” Buckingham wrote to
the King, “let none laugh at it but yourselfe and honneste Kate; he
thinks he hath hitt the naill on the head, but you will find it the
foolishest thing you ever saw.” Amongst the many impertinences of the
fool, Archy, some, directed against Tobie Mathew, were so cutting as to
drive the newly-made knight from the dinner-table at Royston.[49]
Footnote 49:
Tobie died at Ghent, in 1665, having become a Jesuit. Lord Orford has,
according to Nichols, placed Tobie Mathew erroneously on the list of
painters, and misled Grainger and others, owing to the reference to
the Infanta’s picture above stated.--Nichols p. 931, note.
Whilst all these matters, great and small, were discussed at Court, the
poor Infanta, under the tuition of Mr. Wadsworth and Father Boniface,
was studying English “apace.” Wherever she went, she was treated as
Princess of England, the English ambassadors standing uncovered before
her; whilst she occupied herself in having several embroidered suits of
ambar-leather prepared for the Prince, and in the choice and arrangement
of the attendants who were to accompany her to England. “We want,”
Howell wrote, “nothing but one more dispatch from home, and then the
marriage will be solemnized, and all things consummated.”[50]
Footnote 50:
Epistolæ Hoelianæ.
This was the last lingering hope, which was soon to be abandoned, and
fresh schemes substituted to amuse the fancy of the Prince, to gratify
the caprice of his favourite, and to divert the decline of the King.